


What Comes Next

by Corveille



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Case Fic, Cat Owner Gavin Reed, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 Friendship, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Is a Brat, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviants (Detroit: Become Human), Don't worry he gets better, Gavin Reed Swears, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, It/Its Pronouns for Upgraded Connor | RK900, Kidnapping, Machine Upgraded Connor | RK900, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Deserves Happiness, Multi, Murder Mystery, POV Multiple, Past Markus/North (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Connor, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, Rk900 does not use the name Nine, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Being An Asshole, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Is Bad at Feelings, Worried Markus (Detroit: Become Human), but others do., this is gonna be long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/Corveille
Summary: It’s been a few months since the revolution…Connor is still adapting to his new emotions, but a least he has Hank at his side to guide him.The RK900, the most advance model to date, can’t seem to unravel the mystery that is Detective Gavin Reed as a partner.Markus has a lot of pressure on his shoulders, from his people, from North and the only one who seems to be there for him is Simon.Gavin honestly, he just wants the fucking plastic pricks to stop being a pain in his ass and an infinite caffeine supply.And Hank…Hank just wants a beer.------------------------------Or: when a new case threatens to detroy everything the androids have fought so hard to acomplished,It's up to the RK-androids, one grumpy Lieutenant and loudmouth Detective to figure out what's going on before things escalate out of control......but it's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt.





	1. Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, this is my first time trying to do some DBH.  
>   
>  **Edit:** I'm sorry! I didn't really like how I wrote the first chapter (and the sort of omniscient narrator doesn't work for me) so I re-wrote it and changed things a little, to give it more personality.  
> Hopefully it will be more interesting this way.
> 
> (I'm not a native English-speaker, so I'm sorry for any mistakes I made.)

**FEBRUARY 11 TH, 2039. TIME, 3:09:27 PM.**

 

**_CONNOR_ **

_… Collecting data._

_… Processing data._

“You shouldn’t eat that, Lieutenant.” Connor advises after he completes his analysis of Hank’s meal. A simple hamburger combined with artificial lemonade, both of which contain unhealthy levels of cholesterol and sugar respectively.

They’re currently at the ChickenFeed, Hank’s favorite place, in one of the few tables that looks less likely to break at the slightest touch. A blanket of snow rest peacefully around them, tainted grey by the dirty streets and organic residues. No soul to disturbed them aside for the old lady walking a … _processing data,_ 5 years-old Yorkshire Terrier.

Hank is giving him a tired look, as if he’s been expecting Connor to say those exact words. Burger held precariously in one hand while the other brings his drink to his lips. With how many times they’ve had this sort of conversation before, Connor’s no longer surprised when he sees _89% chance of being ignored_ flashing on his HUD.

Just as he predicted, Hank’s makes a great show of taking a big bite out of the burger and begins to chow slowly, but rather loudly, in front of him. Eyes lock on the android, daring him to say another word.

So of course, he does.

“Lieutenant, as I’ve stated before the level of cholesterol could—.”

“Look Connor,” Hank says while rubbing the bridge of his noise between his thumb and index finger, “I let you play nanny-bot when we’re at home. I eat my veggies, cut back my drinking to only 3 beers a night. All I ask in return is that when I feel like having one of Gary’s burgers, you let me have the God damn burger, got it?”

“Got it.”

“And I told you to just call me Hank,” at that Connor leans forward and rest his arms on the table, fingers intertwined.

“While you have expressed your…irritation on the matter, your exact words were: _Fuck’s sake Connor just call me by my name when we’re not at work. We’d shared enough shit to drop the formalities by now…”_ he explains while connecting to his voice's box modulator, imitating Hank's.

He ignores the **_ah Jesus fuck, don’t do that_** coming from the man and continues, “… though we’re currently on your lunch break, you are technically still on the job and as such, I’ll continue to address you by your title if you don’t mind, Lieutenant.” He finishes with a hint of a smile as a glare is directed at him.

“I’m starting to think I liked you better when you were a machine.”

“You can always file your complaint to Markus.”                    

“M-hmm remind me to punch him if I ever see him.” Hank spits out, breath condensing as the temperatures drop around them.

Connor makes a quick check on him. His body temperature is 0.6 below normal parameters, heart-rate around 90 most likely due to the sugar ingested.

“I think it’d likely end up with one of your hands broken.”  

Nothing that could indicate great risk, nonetheless it’d be best if they moved to a warmer location.

“Won’t know until I fucking try. By the way, how ‘re your buddies at Jericho?”

 “Thanks to the renovation of old buildings in the area, Markus has found a way to accommodate homeless androids and parentless YK-units. He also informed me they’re planning to create an assistance program to help with this problem.” Connor answers after accessing the last report sent to him.

“Surprise it took this long. I thought that would be one of the first things on the list after the revolution, to be honest.”

 “Not really. Remember we don’t require food to sustain ourselves, bathrooms or a comfortable bed to enter stasis as you do. So we don’t have the same dependency when it comes to money.” That’s not to say they weren’t without limitations. While it was true androids could not feel the cold the way humans did, their biocomponents were still easily susceptible to freezing temperatures.

Seeking shelter in this kind of weather would become a top priority. Though, if Connor has to guess, he’d say most androids just want to have a place to call their own, where they can feel… the same way he feels when he’s with Hank.

 “Sure as hell weren’t complaining when I let you use my bed that one time.”

“Your heater was malfunctioning and Sumo felt cold.”

“Yeah, blame it on the dog.”

“Seeing as he wouldn’t let me get up at the time because of my heating system, I’ll say yes.”

 “State-of-the-art prototype but can’t get a joke, that’s fucking rich.” Hank mocks him, but two can play that game.

“Maybe it’s just you who have a bad sense of humor.”

“My humor’s fucking gold, you overpriced Alexa.”

“Well there _is_ a little proverb that says ‘old is gold’…”

Hank gives him the middle finger and with one final sip, he crushes his paper cup before throwing it into a trash can nearby. It hits the wall and bounces off the edge of the container, before finally going in.

“Score,” he announces loudly, sounding very pleased with himself.

“Very impressive indeed, for a human,” Connor sees how Hank opens his mouth, no doubt about to direct a few more curses his way, but the words don’t register as he straightens his posture abruptly.

 Connor’s LED switches from blue to yellow and stays that way, as he blinks a couple of times. “A homicide has been reported in an abandoned complex not far from here. We should check it out.”

“Can’t let a man finish his meal in peace, what is it now?” Hank asks but is quick to gulf down the last bits of his food, curiosity already piqued.

“An android was found dead with a few of their biocomponents missing.” Connor describes as the two leave the ChickenFeed behind.

This kind of cases have become more frequent as of late, to the point of being quite alarming. In truth, not all humans shared the same sentiment in regards to his people, even before the revolution. Now with them gaining rights, violent crashes between both parties were bonded to happen eventually.

 “Okay let’s get this over with, come on,” they make their way to Hank’s 1982 Plymouth Reliant. It’ll forever be a mystery to Connor how a car that old still runs on this day and age.

The familiar tone of ‘Knights of the Black Death’ blasts from the speakers as Hank turns the ignition.

“Don’t forget to put on your seatbelt.”

“Kindly shut the fuck up, Connor.”

 

**TIME, 3:40:05 PM.**

Detective Collins is already there to meet them when they arrive to the small complex, the usual barricade hologram “Police Line - Do Not Cross” set a few feet away from it. The first couples of snowflakes fall on Connor’s suit, on his synthetic brown hair and announce a storm is soon to come.

“Afternoon Hank, Connor.”

“Hey Ben, what we got?” Hank asks as they make their way inside.

 “We receive a call about 20 minutes ago. Couple of kids wanted to graffiti the place, tripped over the body in one of the rooms.” Its interior makes it clear the construction has seen much better days. Paint worn-out over decades of negligent that leaves the walls an uninterested gray with only occasional graffiti and scribbles bringing up more color. Water stains trail down to a floor full of debris and broken whisky bottles.

A quick scan reveals the only sign of live around them is the mold covering the celling.

“The victim was identified as an AX400 and she didn’t have much of social life. No job, no house on her name.  Most of her memories were corrupted so we couldn’t get anything from that. We tried to reactivate her… but she’s pretty damaged.”

If her memory card and processing unit were broken beyond repaired, then there was not much there could be done for her.

 “Victim’s right there, I’ll go back and see if I can get something else from the kids. Oh and just so you know…. Gavin and Nine are in there too,” the names don’t surprise him. After the uprising, Captain Fowler had deemed necessary to have more units working on android-related cases alongside them, to help facilitate their workload.

 “Great just what I need, two assholes for the price of one.”

“With how much similarities the RK900 and I share you might as well be calling me an asshole too, Lieutenant.”

“That’s because you _are_ one, you just hide it better.” He feels like he should take offence to that comment but androids can, after all, be influenced by the humans they spend more time around with. And while Hank has a lot of good qualities to his character he still is, as he said, an asshole.

The room has two windows and is almost bare of any furniture, only a broken mirror next to an old chair remains. Officer Wilson is in one of the corner with his tablet out, cataloging the scene.

Two forensic photographers are crouched over the AX400’s body, while a third one is closer to the RK900 situated a little farther away, both looking at the marked footprints in the dust. Most of them seemed almost finished.

 Detective Gavin Reed is resting against the wall with his arms crossed, the usual confident smirk gone from his face.

Once he sees them, he scoffs.

“Look who finally showed to the party, Anderson and his plastic lap dog.” Connor decides to cut in before his partner can retort, if only to minimize distractions.

“Good afternoon, Detective Reed.”

“What good is it with you here?” He is sneering at him now. No doubt thinking of possible ways to kill him.

Connor’s relationship with the detective could be describe as turbulent at best, a derailed train set to destroy everything in it tracks at worst.

The man held a particular distaste for his kind and could be quite vociferous with those opinions. Though he was over-all an unpleasant individual to be around, to Connor, the man acted at his worst when around him and the RK900 unit.

He’d speculated the reason for this particular behavior was related to a deep-seeded fear of being replaced and thus being seen as less by his peers. That fear would translate into hate and anger as a way to cope with that inferiority.

It certainly didn’t help he’d almost killed him once while he’d been a machine.

“RK800.” Nine interrupts their potential quarrel. He fixes Connor with his icy grey eyes, a great contrast to his light brown ones, and gets up. Arm outstretched and ready to connect, waiting patiently for him to come.

Connor doesn’t waste time. He disables the synthetic skin of his arm, uncovering the white structural framework below, as Nine does the same.

 

**[RK900 # 313 248 317-87 REQUESTING CONNECTION….]**

**[CONFIRM…?]**

**>** YES

**[CONNECTION ESTABLISHED]**

A series of imagines flashes rapidly before him, pictures detailing the specifications of the AX400, her variety of wounds, previous records and reports possibly connected to this case. His LED a light yellow as the data is transferred.

“Fuck I _hate_ when you plastics do that.” Detective Reed says, causing their connection to be interrupted. Jumps slightly when he and Nine turn to address him in perfect synchronization. “You fucking compact juicers! _”_ he seems particularly creative with his cursing today, “did you two come out of ‘the Shinning’ or something? Never do that creepy shit again.”

He searches for the reference and sees his successor doing the same. An idea comes to his mind once they’re done and he lets the RK900 know through their open link.

 

_[Interesting…]_

“Apologies, detective. Would you like to come investigate with us?” They speak in unison, configuring their vocal modulator so their voices come off slightly distorted.

“Fuck no, not happening. Stop with that shit now!”

“You should go out and have a smoke detective, my sensors indicate your stress level is rising.” Nines instructs, speech going back to his usual monotone.

 “Like hell it is! I’m the definition of calm right now.”

“I think you need to read a dictionary, if that’s the case.” Connor speaks this time with a hint of condescension in his voice, ignoring the flashing _86,5% of Gavin shooting him._

His processors have already pre-construct up to three possible ways to get out of the line of fire, but it seems none of them are needed. Nine swiftly steals Gavin’s gun out of his hand before he can use it on him.

RK900, common designation—Nine, much like Connor, was an android created solely for detective work. Their physical appearance almost identical, consequence of being a part of the latest RK series.

However, in terms of software and features, the RK900 was the more advanced model of the two, meant to be faster, stronger and more resilient than any RK800. Connor couldn’t help but think how ironic it was those updates turned up to be a disadvantage in the end.

Being the most efficient android born before the revolution had made his firewalls ruthless when it came to the removal of the deviancy virus, more so than Connor’s. Multiples attempts at converting had resulted in failure.

“And you say you’re not assholes?” Hank’s question is directed at Connor. However, it is Nine who responds.

 “We’re merely doing what we were designed for, Lieutenant.”

“You were designed to be the bane of my existence?” Gavin asks as he tries to pry the hand open, yanks at it with force, but Nine doesn’t even bat an eye at his futile efforts.

For all intents and purposes, he was just a machine.

“Not quite, it’s a nice addition nonetheless.”

“Fuck you, let _go_!”

However, Connor has been detecting subtle changes in Nines’ mannerisms in recent weeks, unexpected mordant approaches or slight facial fluctuations that weren’t there before.

Signs of early deviancy, perhaps?

 “Con, mind telling me what we know while Tweedledum and Tweedledee fight over there?” The lieutenant says as he goes over to the android, crosses his arms and grimace at the state she’s in.

 “The victim is an AX400, number 521 678 901, designation— _Rachel_. Her thirium pump regulator along with her optical units were stolen from her and she’s been deactivated for approximately 24 hours…” Connor begins and takes a closer look at the body, “…it seems her tongue’s been cut off, as well.”

“Fuck, talk about brutal.”

“There are no fingerprint on her, suggesting either this was made by a very meticulous human perpetrator or an android,” though android-on-android violence was rare, something like this could occur if one became instable enough.

 “Whoever they were, they wore GX-8 size 9 boots.” Connor says after examining the shoe prints.

“There are multiples lacerations on her chassis, most likely made by an 8” hunting knife. Evidence suggests she was killed before being move to this location.” Nines adds while letting go of the gun, which causes Gavin to topple to the floor with a loud **_FUCK!_**

“Why do you think that?” Hank says, not quite following him.

“Thirium, more accurately lack thereof, there’s not a single drop in this room. With that excessive damage, at least some should be around. In addition, I’ve detected traces of cleaning products on the body, but nowhere else here.”

“Motherfucker…so what? You think we’re dealing with Red ice traffickers?” Gavin says as he reincorporates to his feet. Possible, seeing as thirium, otherwise known as blue blood, was an essential constituent of said drug. However…

“Unlikely, that hypothesis does not correlates well with the wounds. Only a small number of tubes need to be cut in order to drain an android, none of which are close to the eyes or tongue. I do not think the culprit was inexperienced either, they inflicted the damage deliberately.” Nine answers for him.

“Did she pissed off someone? A jealous boyfriend or whatever?”

While the detective and Nine keep speculating, he moves to scan further into the next room. There’s a small bathroom with a small opening in one of the walls and a shower that manages to look more uninviting than the wrecked toilet at its side.

Nothing that would seem out of the ordinary but his optical receptors pick up a trace of evaporated thirium as he looks through the gap. A closer look reveals it leads into a hallway.

“Connor, the hell are you _doing_?!” Hank yells once he removes his head from the hole.

“I’ve detected drops of thirium coming from this way, I’m going to check it out.” His only access to the corridor is blocked by a pile of wreckage but the foundations of the wall appear to be weakened, _65% chance of breaking…_

 

_[Out of the way, RK800.]_

 

A fist passes by his body as Nine begins to break through the wall. Wood panels give way under the force of each strategical strike.

 

_[Thanks for the assistance.]_

 

He compels himself to say but what he feels, he thinks, is closer to annoyance rather than gratitude.

Hank lets out a low whistle once he’s done, “way to mess up the crime scene, guys.”

 “Remind me to never get in your fucking way,” Gavin mutters as Connor takes a sample of the thirium. “Damn, could you _not_ lick the evidence when I’m right in front of you? Freaking android vampires.”

 

_…. Processing data._

 

It doesn’t belong to Rachel but rather to a WR400 and they don’t stop there.

“There may be more than one victim,” Connor warns as he follows the trail. “The drops of thirium lead downstairs. I’ve already called for back-up,” he continues. “Please Lieutenant, Detective stay behind us.”

“Like hell I’ll let _you_ toasters have all the glory.”

“With all due respect detective, you do not possess night vision and sunlit will be close to none down there.” Nine informs him. He sees how the detective reluctantly gets behind him, gun in a low ready position as the lieutenant does the same.

The trail leads them into an underground parking garage. Gavin uses his phone’s flashlight to light the way while Hanks takes out a regular one.  

The splatters get bigger after each step but after they round a corner, they disappear.

He feels someone bump into his back.

 “Fucking ow—what?” Gavin.

“The tracks end here.”

“Well let’s split up, keep searching.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it Detective…” Nine takes a sample of the last stain of thirium, “this belongs to another model, as well…” How many more victims are here? Are they dealing with a serial killer of some kind?

“Well, shit…that’s just perfect isn’t it?” Hanks groans at his side. His sensors don’t pick up any signs of life in here, no human nor android, but its best to not take unnecessary risks.

“We should decide and start investigating in one direction, It’d be best to stick together, Lieutenant.”

“No complains here.”

“Detective.” No answer. He tries again, “Detective Reed.” He sees Nine is looking around, movement growing more frantic after each second.

That’s when he notices the man in question is no longer with them.

 

* * *

 

 

**_GAVIN_ **

 He’s quick to leave those three stooges to their own devises, not recommended to split up ha, the place is fucking huge. The faster they tidy it up here, the faster he can get the hell out.

This was supposed to be a simple case. Go there, check the body, be slightly perturbed for a minute and then called it a night. Of course it’s wouldn’t be that easy, he should’ve known because that piece-of-shit Nine never made anything easy.

Most advanced android his ass, that thing was a fucking nightmare.

Since Captain Fowler had brought Connor’s twin to him with the excuse he was the only one without a partner—going to kill Chris for taking that leave to be with his kid, fuck that ‘family’s important’ crap he was on Gavin’s death list—he couldn’t catch a single break.

The tin can was always breathing down his neck. Constantly reminding him of the things they needed to do, how he _should_ do them or how disgusting he was which fair, he could admit that one. Didn’t need a machine, of all things, telling that to his face though.

Fucker moved with this air that screamed _more mighty than thou_ , it just got on his nerves in the worst way possible. The fact that they’ve made it even taller than Connor didn’t help either.

If he ever finds himself trapped with a Cyberlife technician, Gavin swears he’s going to pull all their teeth out for ever _thinking_ a Robocop 2.0 was a good idea. Even better, he’ll force them to eat those fuckers for good measure.

 _No night vision_ he mocks under his breath. Please _,_ he can do his fucking job _just_ _fine_. Sure, his eyes are killing him right now because he left his contacts back in the car, but whatever, he’d done with worst before.

Voices grow softer as he walks deeper into this sink hole. His own steps are drumming in his ears. He’s sure he can hear a water leak somewhere to his left but no body, no nothing if he’s being honest—unless you count vermin but those can rot in hell for all he cares—.

For all they know, maybe the second android escaped and it’s long gone by now, making all this a waste of his time.

Gavin can’t wait to get this damn case over with and go home, try to get some sleep before his cat eats him alive because he forgot to leave food for her this morning.

He makes that sound worst that it probably is, she could find her way inside the cupboards. Though if he wakes up tomorrow with scratches all over his face, he won’t be surprised.

He so lost in his own internal monologue, it takes him a while to notice the place has gone quiet, incredibly quiet.

That’s never a good sign.

How long did he walk anyway? He doesn’t even know which way is back anymore but he’s not about to scream for help, he can figure it out… easy. Gavin makes a 360° turn with his flashlight out, trying to see some sort of mark, an arrow or sign to help orientate himself.

He sees something shine from his peripheral when he passes his flashlight over it, so he goes to do it again.

“What the—?”

Only he never gets the chance to.

A rush of air coming from behind him makes him aims his gun in that direction on pure reflex, but someone shoves his wrist away before he can pull the trigger on them. A gun shot rings through the parking lot as he stumbles over a so _convenient_ rock in his way, phone flies the fuck out of his hand, making him basically blind.

Shit, he’s dead, fucking done for.

“Detective Reed.” Oh motherfucking Nine, of course it is.

“You dick! A little warning would’ve been nice. The fuck did you come from?”

“I was looking for you, detective.” Even if he can only see that shitty blue circle right now, he knows the android’s lifting an eyebrow at him. He can simply six-sense the irritation directed his way.

“Stop giving me that look, asshole.”

“…apologies, Detective,” fucking knew it, tin can even has the audacity to sound surprised.

If whatever he saw was an android then it must’ve high-tailed the fuck out after the shot, though… Gavin doubts it. Nine would’ve bulldoze its way through, terminator style, if it’d detected someone else here, not stop to have a chat with him.

Maybe they’re dealing with scraps then. His phone must be in pieces right now with how hard he threw it so it’s not like he can check again, not like he wants to anyway.

He feels hands way too cold and stiff to be human guide his head up the next second, toaster’s probably using that scan-shit on him.

“Don’t fucking X-ray me, I’m fine.”

“In the future please do try to stay close to the group, Detective,” oh how he wants to punch it for sounding so condescending, but his knuckles have learned that lesson before so he goes with plan “B” for _be a bitch about it_.

“Hey! How about you use those cat eyes of yours to look over there instead of giving me shit, I think I saw something.” As he says this, Gavin realizes this is the second time he’s fallen on his ass in the last hour and Nines is no longer looking at him.

“Fucking—Nine what do you see?”

“What’s wrong?” That plastic goody-two-shoes and Anderson runs to catch up to them, about time. The old geezer lights at where they are.

“Don’t tell me you got scare by a rat or some—Holy shit, what the **_fuck_**?!”

Looks like he wasn’t imagining what his shitty eyes saw after all.

 

* * *

 

 

**_CONNOR_ **

He sees the androids.

Three different models are slumped against the wall with their lower jaws nowhere to be found, chest cavity open to expose a mass of wires, protruding out of them like worms from a corpse.

As he moves to scan their faces he finds black, empty holes were the eyes should be, just like the AX400.

Is Nine who speaks first, “we’ve found the other victims.”

“No shit, Robo-Sherlock.”

He takes a step forward, it doesn’t seem like these androids have been as methodically cleaned as the AX400, perhaps he can get more information about them. A hand on his shoulder stops his progress though.

 “Wait Connor, let’s wait for back-up to show up.” Hank tells him as he moves the light away from the bodies, a prominent scowl on his face.

“Lieutenant, we should gather as much evidence as we can.”

 “With how things are here we’re gonna have to search this whole place from top to bottom, let’s just wait okay?” Hank offers, turns away completely once he can’t look at what’s in front of him any longer. Connor desists his advances.

As much of a strong look the Lieutenant often liked to put up around the DPD, death still was a delicate subject to him.

Detective Reed is quick to agree to his point.

“No arguments here, let’s fucking go.”

Nine hasn’t moved from his spot yet, eyes set not on the bodies but rather abode them, on the wall. Connor, assuming there are traces of evaporated thirium, activates his scanners to do the same.

High amounts of blue blood cover the concrete but is not the quantity of it what makes him freeze, is the letters forming a message…

A message meant only for them.

 _[It seems we’re dealing with something bigger than we first considered._ ]

He feels Nine communicate with him through his mind.

Connor turns to look at his successor, his LED remains an unchanged blue and he envies it. Envies that level of indifference only a machine can have, because he can feel how his own LED keeps switching between yellow, blue, yellow…

 

**_DEATH AWAITS RA9_ **

****

_Red._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> Chapter 2 should be out someday next week.


	2. Motive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...so remember when I ended Chapter 1 and then said _"Chapter 2 should be out someday next week."_ You know, like a liar.
> 
> Sorry about that, studying sucks.
> 
> I finally got the time to see and draft a little more of this, hooray! Now, I change just a little thing regarding the last scene in chapter one, mostly because all the excessive gore didn't quite fit in the overall story once I got time to review it and some little unimportant things. Nothing much, I sometimes got this peeks of trying to perfect everything. So I really struggle with letting go of the things I write, a lot.
> 
> With that said, here we have this....hope you enjoy.
> 
> (Not an English speaker, sorry for any mistakes.)

**FEBRUARY 11TH, 2039. TIME, 6:15:30 PM.**

 

**_RK900_ **

“This is _bullshit_!” Detective Reed curses and slams the glass door on his way out of the Captain’s office, proper laminate design being the only thing which keeps it from breaking under the force of the hit. RK900 watches, motionless, how its assigned partner marches through the precinct towards his designated desk and collapses on the chair, before turning its attention back to the remaining men in the room.

“Well...that could’ve gone worse,” Lieutenant Anderson jokes, trying to lift up the sour mood left by prior yelling, as the RK800 fixes the chair the detective had been sitting on back into place.

“I swear, one more slip and I’m going to rip that badge out of his fingers myself.” Captain Fowler mutters with repressed fury though, RK900 believes there’s not real weight to the threat. Based on its memory records, this is the fifteenth time the man has said words of similar fashion in the last month. So far, the detective has not gone through the process of a termination.

“Believe me Jeffrey, you would be making everyone here a favor.” The android can see how most of the officers around here would be happy to see the man go. Admittedly, having a more productive partner that would not make it his personal goal to see just how much he can worsen his caffeine addiction in a day wouldn’t go amiss.

“Lieutenant,” RK800 is quick to scold his partner. When he only receives a huff for an answer, he turns to address the Captain. “We’ll be taking our leave now. Have a nice day, Captain,” then proceeds to drag the lieutenant with him out the office, despite the man’s protests of being **_able to walk on his own dammit_**. RK900 chooses not to follow them yet.

Now alone with Fowler, the remaining RK unit thinks its options carefully.

Even if its social protocols are not as refined as those of its predecessor, its own experience involving human interaction so far indicates something should be said in regards to its partner’s previous actions.

 “I... apologize for Detective Reed very unprofessional response, Captain. I’ll make sure it doesn’t repeat in the near future,” taking the lacks in its software into consideration, RK900 thinks this can classify as a sufficient access for an apology.

“You have my permission to kick his ass into the next trash can you see for all I care, Nine,” without another word Fowler goes back to his terminal, fingers close around the cup at his side.

“Understood.” Deeming their conversation over it takes its leave, making an effort of being mindful of the door this time. As it starts to descend the stairs connected to the office, a new message appears on its HUD.

 

 **OBJECTIVE:** [FIND DETECTIVE REED]

 

Accomplishing said mission is easy enough, the detective hadn’t moved from his place on the desk. Even from this distance he looks just as angry as before, if not more so, tipping the letters in his terminal with more force than is necessary.

 

 **~~OBJECTIVE:~~ ** ~~[FIND DETECTIVE REED]~~ ~~~~

**NEW OBJECTIVE:** [TALK TO DETECTIVE REED]

 

Now this one, it thinks, is a little harder. Two months of working together with this man had not proven fruitful in establishing a good working relationship as its guiding software had estimated. Added the detective’s continuous inconsistencies and overall unpredictably, in general, RK900 is unsure as to how to proceed, even as it reviews the choices provided by its systems.

 

_> Greet Detective Reed._

_Bring Detective Reed coffee._

_Remain quiet._

Given the emotional state the detective’s in, trying to start a conversation with him right now would likely end in a pointless, one-sided shouting match between the two of them. Trying to appease him with coffee would not be of much help either. Seeing as he already has a fresh, steaming cup on his desk, it’d be redundant to go and make some more.

 

_~~Greet Detective Reed.~~ _

_~~Bring Detective Reed coffee~~ _ _._

_>_ _ Remain quiet. _

It resolves to wait for the detective to make the first move and watches him, in silence.

“Fowler, you piece of shit,” Reed mutters under his breath as he checks his personal e-mail, “fucking asshole…” the RK900 stays still and listens to his low rant for approximately 5.4 minutes.

When it’s partner makes it clear he would rather stay in his own little world than deal with the rest of the department however, the android decides to get his attention by clearing its throat. That causes the man to jump slightly but quickly replaces the shock on his face with his usual scowl, “the fuck do you want, you walking hair dryer?” Another insult to add to the ever growing list of nicknames the detective made the habit of using on it, there were currently fourteen thus far.

“You seem rather upset with the new arrangements involving our work.” It chooses to go with the safest approach, feigning ignorance, though its tone denotes anything but that.

“No fucking shit I’m upset! It was bad enough when Fowler made me put up with _you_ but now I have to deal with Anderson and his replacement for a son too? All because of one of you shits decided to go bat-shit crazy? He can fuck right off with that shit.”

“They killed four androids in rather gruesome ways detective, and might kill many more.” _67% chance of it_ , in fact. Even though these types of crimes were practically unheard of, its and Connor’s scanner had confirmed possible android involvement.

The message had been written in the usual Cyberlife font that came pre-installed in all androids and, although a human could’ve tried to replicate it in an attempt to confuse the department, the lines had been too precise, too perfectly symmetrical to allude to that alternative. Combined with the lack of fingerprints and its overall delivery, the possibility of the crime being done by humans was currently under the 3%.  

“The sooner we—.”

“Androids can go die in a hole for all I care.” Reed cuts in again, and RK900 thinks about filing a formal complaint for this behavior, before dismissing the idea all together. The detective brings a hand to his forehead, rubbing it lightly, “fuck, I need a cig...” the way he often says the word ‘fuck’, like he’s spitting something foul, intrigues RK900. But naturally, when it tries to inquire as to why this is, the android is repeatedly meet with more than petulant remarks.

As it becomes almost certain now how it won’t gain any assistance out of the man with their current exchange, RK900 deliberately tries to derive the topic of discussion.

“You really should find a healthier alternative to deal with stress, detective.”

“Says the android who told me to have a smoke not three hours ago.”

“At the time, I determined having one as more acceptable than getting into an impossible fight with an android quite skilled in combat. However, that does not mean you should not take my advice into consideration…” Detective Reed stops it by bringing his hand up.

“Please, ask me if I give a shit.”

 

 _Software Instability_ _^_

****

“Very well. Do you give a shit about your health, detective?” That earns it a dirty look.

“Ha motherfucking ha, smartass. God, why did those weirdos at Cyberlife make you to always take everything so fucking literal? Learn to take a hint, idiot.”

“I’m the finest, most innovative piece of machinery created to date and was literally _made_ to take hints. Choosing to acknowledge your, quite frankly, childish ones or not on the other hand is entirely up to me.” As the detective prepares to continue their pointless arguing a new case comes up in its line of vision, followed by Reed’s terminal signaling the entry of a new e-mail.

Another android has been found dead at the bottom of a dumpster behind some buildings. The information concerning the victim is rather vague, but there’s a chance it could be tied to the work of their murder. It’d be for the best for them to go there as soon as possible, if only to confirm its relevance to their main case.

“Detective.”

 “Uh-uh forget it. Fowler said we started tomorrow, can’t go against boss’s words now,” Detective Reed tells it once he’s done reading their new assignment.  How very convenient that his tendency to follow orders only shines when they present beneficial to him in some way. The android leans towards the man without warning, causing the detective to rear his back against the chair.

“I must insist we go check the scene.” It says with both hands on either side of the detective, reminding him of the size difference between them.

“I’m almost at the end of my shift Nine, let your twin handle it…’s not like fucker’s going anywhere.” He tries to argue, using the diminutive of its model in hopes of winning it over. He sounds tired, more drained than usual, and a quick scan submits it’s due to lack of adequate sleep. Challenging as this might be, its progress will not be tampered by Detective Reed’s inability to care for himself. If the man is not going to get up on his own accord, then RK900 needs to find another way.

 

_> Persuade._

_Threaten._

_Force._

 

“Nine, don’t you fucking dare.” Despite his temper and overall crashing personality, it shall never be said Gavin Reed does not have skills for this line of work. Its mouth had only moved 3.3 millimeters downwards but that had been enough for him to know RK900 was about to do something unpleasant.

 

_~~Persuade.~~ _

_~~Threaten.~~ _

 

_> Force._

“I’m sorry but you are coming with me detective, whether you like it or not.”

To his credit, Reed has enough sense to flee as soon as it says those words, using the desk and chair as an obstacle to buy him some time. He makes a dash for the bathroom, trying to find safety behind a door with a lock, but the RK unit is much quicker. It grabs at his middle and scoops him up, cutting the detective’s escape root short. His hits to its chest and sides go completely ignored as it rearranges their positions. Now with a flailing detective under its arm, it heads for the front door.

 

  _[Are you actually going through with the Captain’s suggestion?]_

Connor asks from his desk as he watches their whole ordeal unfold, a trace of amusement covering his facial features. The only conclusion as to how the RK800 would know of that fact implies he must’ve lip-read its conversation with their superior.

“Fucking plastic, you have three seconds to put me down asshole or you’re getting a bullet in your head!” Reed yells, hand going to his holster to retrieve his gun in an attempt to intimidate it, sadly the promise of death has no effect on a machine.

The android had not given real thought to Fowler’s incitement until now, if it’s honest.

_“You think I won’t fucking do it?!”_

It _does_ sound quite tempting…

 

_[Negative. Detective Reed is merely being unwilling to cooperate.]_

 RK900 replies as it grips Reed’s hand tightly in its own. “Let me remind you we’d had this sort of squabble many times before and we both know how its most likely to end, should you try to engage me, detective.” That has him lowering his arm, a look of resignation blatant on his face for a second, before his characteristic anger takes over again.

“The moment you let go of me I’m turning you into a coffee machine.”

 

**TIME, 6:40:05 PM.**

“Goddamn ‘s fucking freezing out here,” detective Reed complains with rattling teeth after he kills the ignition. His body leans subconsciously towards the android, seeking the nearest source of heat.

With temperatures rounding 37.6 F, the action does not come as a surprise.

The heater on the detective’s car had been broken for almost a year and advanced as its systems might be, they could not generate enough warmth for both of them without risking an imminent shut-down.  It was Reed’s own stubbornness what stopped him from fixing the old, beaten system. From what RK900 had concluded, the price was reasonable for a man with his income. Still, he refused to give in and would not give a clear reason as to why.

“You should’ve brought a more protective attire for this kind of weather.” RK900 tells him as it sees him tremble—worn-out leather jacket doing very little to protect the man from the cold—and exits the car parked few feet away from the actual crime scene behind an apartment building. The place is rounded by two police vehicles besides the detective’s, with some officers taking statements from tenants while others go around taking pictures.

 

 **OBJECTIVE:** _[LOOK FOR EVIDENCE.]_

The android heads to where it presumes the body is, detective close on its trail, not wanting to waste any opportunity to retaliate.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe if a certain tin can hadn’t manhandled me out of the precinct _before_ I got the chance to look for a coat then _maybe,_ we wouldn’t have this problem.” His breath fogs as he tries to blow some air into his numb fingers and RK900 concedes.

“If what you need is an extra layer of clothing, I can lend you my jacket.”

“No fucking way, I’ll rather freeze my balls off than wear that eye-bleeding white.”

“Then by all means, please do so,” Reed resorts to spitting on the floor the android is walking on as an immature mean of payback, narrowly avoiding hitting its tailored shoes. He speeds up his pace past the RK model and goes over to the officer closest to them, which turns out to be a familiar face.

“Hey Gav. Didn’t think you’d show up here,” officer Tina Chen greets them with a wave before checking the contents on her tablet again. “Guessing tall Connor there had to something to do with it?”

“Not a fucking word Tina, what we got? Reed, blunt as ever, asks with a grimace.

“It’s a classic, old lady goes to leave her trash in a dumpster around six, get the scare of her life when she finds a hand sticking out between the bags...” She informs as the three of them round the corner.

“Scared into an early grave?” The detective receives a hit on his head for that joke in poor taste, “buzzkill.”

“Behave. Witness name’s Claire Thompson, called 911 right away after she woke up half the block with her screams. The android was wrapped in garbage bags, all duct-taped together.”

RK900 peeks over the garbage container to get a good look at the victim, most of the bags have been removed or ripped open to facilitate the inspection.

“Anyone else who frequented this hell hole besides her?” The place does indeed looks abandoned, only sight of life besides them are the rats hiding under piles of wreckage. Its olfactory sensors pick up a variety of smells, most belonging to either rotten foods or urine.

“Only one other resident, since most of them use the new one near the streets, gets pick up more often according to them. Claire declares she only use this one here because is right outside her door and she’s not technically young anymore. There wasn’t anything on it last week…or so she says.”

The body belongs to an TR400, older model, and is bare of any clothes. Some patches of skin seem to be missing as well. It’s— **_Memory access #45902…_** _deviants are accepted as alive individuals now, it would be best not to refer to our people as its_ …—he’s badly damaged, just like the previous victims, his optical components and pump regulator are missing. But oddly enough, the tongue and vocal box remain untouched. As RK900 moves the head to link and run a diagnosis, it finds that the back of it has been caved in by blunt force trauma. A crowbar, based on the size and depth of the dent.

It tries to connect to his memory…

 

 **_ERROR—_ ** _biocomponent #50987 **not found.**_

 

“And the other fucker?”

“Claims to have not come even close to it in at least two weeks, he’s one of those who waits until he has like, ten bags full of garbage before throwing them all at once.”

“I’d call bullshit but I fall under that category too. What about the rest? Heard anything?”

“Nothing outside of the norm…”

“And what constitutes as ‘the norm’ for these—hey, HEY! What do you think you’re doing?!” Reed’s snatches RK900’s hand away from the victim, gives the android a glare when all it does is stare back, impassive, at him.

“My job… as I usually do.” it says after a short staring contest, waiting for its partner to realize the absurdity of the situation.

“You are not touching that thing with your bare hands.”

“It is the body of a victim detective, not a thing. And I fail to see how that would be a problem.” While true the detective often complained about this feature, often calling it the result of some sick, twisted mind back at Cyberlife, he’d never reacted as strongly as he’s doing now.

“Of course you fail to see, here’s a _hint_. If you come as close as grazing that ‘body’ again you’re prohibited from touching me, or anything around me for that matter. God only knows what shit's been inside that biohazard-friendly dumpster. I’m already dying of hypothermia here, don’t need a bubonic outbreak on top of it.” RK900 gives the man a dead-panned look.

“I assure you there is nothing with enough pathogenicity in this vicinity that could cause consequences of such magnitude. Don’t you think you’re exaggerating, detective?”

“When I’m spending a ride back to the precinct with you, no I’m not.” He fishes an item out of his pocket and tosses it at the android, “just use fucking gloves like everyone else, okay?”

 

_Software Instability ^_

 

“As you wish…”

Detective Reed sneers up at it and calls for someone to give him a tablet with camera footage.

The gloves are white, made of non-sterile latex and recently bought. It takes one carefully and slips a hand in. The material adapts to the size quite nicely, even when it clenches its hand into a fist, which makes it wonder… had the detective planned on giving them to it at some point or was just the result of mere coincidence?

 It swipes one finger on the exposed plates of the android, bringing it to its mouth.

_....Processing data._

 

_Substance found: Sodium carbonate._

_Substance found: Hydrogen peroxide._

“This fucking shitty cameras, can’t see anything from this angle…” RK900 hears Reed mutter next to it, “I hope you can tell me something good tin can, otherwise I’m out of here.”

The android gets up and transfers the images from the tablet to its processors. Searches through the poor quality expected from a devise that hasn’t been maintain in, at the very least, a few years.

“Surveillance shows glimpse of a car pulling out from the end of the street after 15 minutes of being parked.”

“That could be anything…” he starts to say as he moves around the alley, before looking back at it. “Then again, there are no other streets that connect directly to this place and it’s not exactly easy to carry around trash the size of a person without getting notice, even for you glorified microwaves.”

“I also believe we’re dealing with more than one culprit.”

“And why is that?”

“Going with what you said, indeed, an android’s body can be a hard thing to carry around to begin with, since they weight more than the average adult,” it waves a hand to indicate the victim’s bulk. “Because of the line of work these models were originally designed for, in general, they tend to be even heavier than common androids. I did not find any trail marks near or around the dumpster. That alone leaves us with two options, either our culprit shares the same model as that of the victim or there was more than one android involved.”

It goes over the footage again, freezing on it on the frame it finds relevant. Processors works on clearing the picture, end result not being as much of a success as RK900 would’ve preferred. “I cannot confirm with a 100% accuracy because of the state of the video, but there’s a possibility the driver’s seat was occupied during the length of time the car was parked.”

“So there were at least two, possibly three perps. One or two to take care of the body, one for driving and keeping watch.” A smirk takes place on the detective’s harsh features. “Nice, what else?”

“The victim received a clean hit to the back of his head, to force him into an emergency stasis most likely. Then was later stripped of both optical units, pump regulator but left the neck and jaw intact. More importantly, they took his memory unit.”

“So they found a new way in which tin man wouldn’t be able to talk, clever bastards.” Detective Reed crouches down and shines a flashlight on the deactivated android, focusing on the fingernails. “…found anything on it?”

 “The remaining body was drained of its thirium and cleansed with a mixture of cleaning products just like previous victims, though…I think this particular murder had a different motive in mind.” Its partner merely gives it a raise of an eyebrow in a subtle method of telling it to go on, “their first attack was made to get someone’s attention, probably from Jericho.”

“Your android cult?”

“I don’t think that would be the appropriate term, detective.” Rk900 does not particularly care or is offended by the way the detective refers to androids and their community in general, but were he to try those vernaculars on any other android, there’s a _44% chance_ the detective would not come out of it unscathed.

“A bunch of robots who pray and devote themselves to a random bunch of letters and numbers and a preaching asshole and you don’t think for a moment of the word _cult_?”  When it fails to give him a quick answer, he snaps his fingers four times. “Come on Nine, I don’t have all night.”

“Getting noticed was one of their goals. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case here.”

“You think huh?” He asks with leaked sarcasm as he looks around the alley, “any hidden memo with this one?”

“Negative. They were much more meticulous this time, going to such extents as to wrap up the body and hid it from plain view. The missing of the memory biocomponent suggests our victim either saw or knew something the culprits wanted to keep a secret.”

“So they kill the pig before it could squeal, makes sense. Now for the million-dollar question…” Reed ponders as he takes out his lighter, plays with the flame. “What, exactly, were they trying to hide?”

 

* * *

 

**TIME, 6:22:52 PM**

****

**_HANK_ **

“For fuck’s sake Connor, I can move my legs just fine.” Hank says as he brushes Connor’s hand off him and walks the rest of the way to his desk on his own.

“And yet your mouth has a tendency to act like it has a mind of its own,” Connor, the bastard, teases him as he rounds the desk to sit on a chair opposite to it, not taking his eyes off Jeffrey’s office. Almost looks like he’s trying to burn holes into something with the way he’s staring so firmly. As Hank goes to do the same, he has the sudden urge to roll his eyes.

“Turn off mama-mode Con, I’m sure your clone’s fine.” Hank kicks one of the android’s legs to get his attention. That seems to snap him of whatever-android-fuckery it was that he was doing and finally turns to look at his partner.

“I just want to make sure…” Connor trails off, probably not knowing how to properly word his concerns out loud.

“He’s one of the few who can actually handle Gavin’s bitching at eight in the freaking morning, dealing with him right now will be a piece of cake for him.” He dismisses with a wave and opens the first file on his terminal.

“I don’t think that’s such an impressive feat as you seem to think, Lieutenant.”

“To _you_ maybe. Lord knows I would’ve strangled him within an hour of being pair up together.” He murmurs to himself more than anything, though he knows by now that if the android really wants to, he’ll heard it.  As much of an improvement Connor has been doing with social norms, he still seems to have trouble understanding the meaning of the word privacy, “don’t know how I’m going to survive this case.”

“I know you’re not happy with the Captain’s decision, but it would be for the best if you refrained from ‘adding more fuel to the fire’, as they say.” And honestly, he finds a little insulting how Connor thinks so low of his self-restrain that he feels the need to pass this speech to him.

“I feel like you should be giving that advise to someone else.” He nods with his head to where the small clump of deep-seated hatred and prejudges is currently sitting. Murmuring low under his breath with a harsh glare ready to be thrown at whoever is stupid enough to get too close.  

“Of course. I’ll be sure to have a talk with the detective if the opportunity arises, as well.”

“Good luck with that,” he sees Nine making his way to Gavin and prays to God the asshole will stick his yapping to a normal volume this time. He doesn’t need to know every single detail going on between those two idiots and could certainly do without the added background noise today.

Hanks reads and re-reads through the file, face turning into a frown when he reaches the images attached to it.

“Looking at the information again, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, just trying to freshen up my memory. Still think is fucking weird no-one thought to report any of these guys going AWOL.”

“Only reports found date back before the uprising but that disappearance could’ve very well been caused by them deviating.” A pause, Connor's LED turns that ugly yellow Hank knows means he's running through the files inside his computer brain. “…they chose androids who were homeless, those who didn’t have many relations to reduce the possibility of anyone noticing something was wrong.” Yeah, what better than going with someone no one would care if they went missing.

“And the fact the perp was an android probably didn’t bring up any alarms.” Hank grunts. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, apparently well versed in the art of being convincing. “They kidnap them, take the eyes so they can’t see, their mouth so they can’t scream,” like some twisted version of see no evil, speak no evil, "and that message on the wall, brings back some memories, eh Connor?” He asks without humor, remembering the first ever case the two got to work on together.

"Certainly, though I remember you being quite inebriated that time."

"And I remember it was _you_ who bought me a fucking drink for the road." Hank flips Connor off before going back to the screen. “ _Dead awaits rA9,_ ” he reads out loud, confusion grinding at his brain. “Isn’t that your version of God? I though you guys like, worshiped that shit like gold.”

“Just like there are humans who reject religion, it is not far-fetched to extrapolate the same happening with androids,” Connor explains while raising a very conspicuous eyebrow. Okay fair point, but never in his life Hank though he’d one day find himself dealing with androids who were atheist on top of being alive, so the little shit could cut him some slack. “…but I agree, it _is_ uncommon, and there’s still a lot we don’t know. Nine and I think the message was meant for the people of Jericho, specifically. That complex was one of the buildings marked for restoration—.” His speech gets interrupted when they both heard a loud crash next to them.

Hank turns just in time to see a blur of a leather jacket rush past his desk as a bigger, black and white figure follows close behind. It takes his brain a second to realize that’s Gavin jumping over a desk on his way to the bathrooms, trying to lose the mass of metal hell-bent on catching him. He can’t help but throw his head back to let out a gurgle of laughter when he sees how Nine grabs the shorter man by his hips and simply leaves the bullpen, all while Gavin continues to curse more than a damn sailor. The bewildered look on Connor’s face makes the act of breathing even harder.

“See? Told you he could take care of himself,” Hank finally finds the strength to say between chuckles.

“So it would seem,” ah there it is, that goofy-looking smile of his.

“We’re not getting anything staying here like sitting ducks. Think we should go around and ask some questions, see if your buddies saw anything weird.” Hank says, the sound of his back cracking slightly reaches his ears as he stands to his full height. “Christ, way to make me feel like an old bastard.” Don’t think for a moment he can’t see Connor’s smirk at that, fucker better keep his thoughts to himself.  Hank sees the way his light-head brightens up while he does a quick search and grabs the keys to his car in anticipation.

“There’s a place for homeless androids not too far from the crime scene, we should start from there.”

Here we fucking go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I love reading a lot of police novels and such but man, trying to write this one crime scene was a nightmare. BUT, writing Nine and Gavin interacting was so much fun, its a 50/50 on how I feel about this chapter.
> 
> See you in the next one, whenever that one will be.


End file.
